


Sten's Obligation

by lisakodysam



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Humour, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisakodysam/pseuds/lisakodysam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being bested in battle, Sten must do his Kadan a service.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sten's Obligation

"My feet are killing me!" Alistair whined as he sat next to the fire, pulled his boots off and threw them to the ground. He and his companions had just made camp on the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest. It had taken them three days and nights to reach it from Denerim.

He sat there, massaging his feet and wincing as sharp pains shot up into his legs. "Wynne?" he called plaintively, beckoning the elderly mage over, "rejuvenate my feet, will you? Please?" he asked, presenting her with his best 'little boy lost' look.

"Certainly not, young man," Wynne scolded. "I will not touch those filthy feet of yours until you bathe them. I can smell them from where I stand," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Aw…" Alistair pouted, "but the water in the stream will be so cold." He shivered at the thought. "Couldn't you make an exception, just for little me?"

Wynne folded her arms, glaring at him. "Your puppy-dog eyes do not move me, Alistair," she replied. "Until your feet are bathed – with soap I may add, not just water – I will not touch them."

"Oh, alright," he muttered, rising to his feet and heading into the woods toward the stream.

"Here," said Wynne, thrusting a bar of soap into his hand. "Wash those socks of yours as well."

"Will you darn them for me if I do?" he asked sweetly.

"Perhaps, if you make a good job of washing them," Wynne replied.

"Right!" Alistair chirped, doubling his pace toward the stream.

"I swear he should have been named Alison instead of Alistair," a laughing male voice spoke.

"I heard that, Aedan!" Alistair called from the woods.

"You were meant to," Aedan called back with a smirk, turning toward Wynne. "He becomes more and more like a woman each day," he whispered.

"Oh!" Wynne exclaimed sharply, placing her hands on her hips. "And do you hear us women complaining and whining as he does?"

"Erm…no," Aedan said contritely. "Sorry, Wynne. It was just a joke."

"Hmph!" she scoffed, turning on her heel and returning to her tent.

Aedan turned toward Sten, who stood a short distance away, and shrugged his shoulders. "Women, eh, Sten?"

Sten glowered at him and snorted. "It is not the women here who are the problem, but the men," he stated bluntly, turning his back on Aedan.

Aedan sat on the ground, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

 

Supper was served; a hearty broth of beans and barley. Alistair and Aedan sat together by the fire, with Wynne and Leliana opposite them; Sten sat a short distance away from the group. Alistair made a shrill exclamation and his eyes bulged as he swallowed a spoonful of broth.

"Now what's wrong, Alison?" Aedan quipped.

"Hot! Too hot!" Alistair gasped, frantically rubbing his breastbone in a futile attempt to cool down the piping hot food that was travelling down his gullet. "Hot hot hot hot hot!"

"Tell me how you became a Grey Warden again, Alistair?" Aedan chortled.

"By sheer luck!" Alistair chuckled, then his face dropped a little as the laughter faded, and he stared into the distance. "Duncan…Duncan saved me," he mumbled. "If it hadn't been for him, I…I don't know…" His voice trailed off.

Aedan, noticing tears in Alistair's eyes, slapped his arm a couple of times, but said nothing. They sat in silence for a moment.

"Parshaara!" cried an enraged voice. Alistair and Aedan nearly jumped out of their skin as a huge sword was thrust into the firepit, showering both of them with sparks. Alistair dropped his bowl and desperately slapped his legs to stop his breeches from being burned.

"Sten?" Aedan cried angrily. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I grow weary of this half-man!" the Qunari roared. "He complains, he pleads, he weeps!" He turned toward a stricken-looking Alistair. "On your feet, Templar!" he commanded.

"W-what? What for?" Alistair gulped.

Sten moved closer to Alistair and retrieved his sword from the fire. "I challenge you to prove your manhood in one-on-one combat," Sten demanded. "You are honour-bound to accept."

"B-but I haven't finished my broth, yet," Alistair said meekly.

Sten reached over and threw Alistair's bowl into the woods. "Now you have finished, Templar," he growled. "Stand and fight, or I will slay you as you sit!"

Alistair sighed heavily, and, rising to his feet, walked over to where his sword and shield lay, picking them up.

Aedan also rose to his feet. "Look, Sten," he said calmly, "there seems to have been a misunderstanding somewhere…"

"This is not your concern, human," Sten replied with finality, and walked over to a small clearing away from the tents. Alistair followed, casting a wide-eyed glance at Aedan as he walked past.

Alistair rolled his shoulders as he approached Sten with his sword and shield ready. "The rules of combat," spoke Sten, "are thus: The first to fall is the loser. Any dishonourable actions, such as hair pulling, backstabbing or biting, result in immediate forfeiture."

"So, this isn't a fight to the death, then?" Alistair asked hopefully.

"No, it is not," Sten replied, "although if the victor believes the combat was not fought honourably, he retains the right to take his foe's life, should he so choose."

"Erm…" Alistair mumbled, "j-just a minute…"

"Begin!" Sten instructed, clasping his massive bastard sword with both hands as he assumed a battle stance.

Aedan walked over as the two began exchanging blows. "Come on, Alistair!" he yelled.

Sten swung his sword in an arc, narrowly missing Alistair's head as he ducked and shoulder-charged the Qunari's belly, causing Sten to take a step back as he steadied himself. "You will need more strength than that to best the Sten!" he taunted, launching his sword in a fierce swipe to Alistair's side. Alistair yelled and clutched his side, temporarily winded, before hastily strafing to the side to avoid an overhead blow from Sten.

The force of Sten's blow caused his sword to become stuck in the ground. As he pulled it out, Alistair bashed Sten in the face with his shield, but as he brought his sword up to strike, Sten grabbed the blade and pushed Alistair backwards, almost making him lose his footing.

He's got no chance! Aedan thought, panicking. "Come on, Alistair!" he yelled. "Win it for Duncan!"

"You wish to dedicate your fight to a dead man?" Sten scoffed as he and Alistair returned to battle stances. "Duncan cannot inspire you now, Templar!"

Sudden anger flashed across Alistair's face. "How _dare_ you speak his name!" he shouted hoarsely. "Duncan was a hero!"

"A hero?" Sten mocked. "If a hero is someone who loses a battle and fails to save the life of your King, then, yes! He is indeed a hero!"

Aedan gasped at the sudden change in Alistair's demeanour. His entire body stiffened; his face blazed red and his eyes appeared to turn to glass. "You will never speak his name again!" Alistair roared, running at full pelt toward Sten, and, in a daring manoeuvre, grabbed Sten's dreadlocks for leverage as he ran up the Qunari's legs, perching his feet on his knees, and delivered several devastating blows against Sten's head with his shield.

Sten, unable to react in time, quickly became dazed, and dropped his sword as he staggered backwards. Alistair threw his sword and shield to the ground and pummelled Sten with his fists. Finally overcome by dizziness, Sten toppled back, losing his footing and crashing to the ground, throwing Alistair several feet away.

The two of them lay still for a few seconds. "Alistair?" Aedan called, running forward, relieved to see Alistair move and struggle to his feet.

"You bastard!" Alistair spat at the dazed Qunari as he went to retrieve his sword. "I'll show you the meaning of honour!" He walked resolutely over to Sten with murderous intent in his eyes.

"Alistair, don't!" cried Aedan, blocking his path.

"Get out of my way, Aedan!" Alistair shouted.

"No! I won't!" Aedan shouted back. "This is not you, Alistair! You're not thinking straight! If you kill him, you'll never forgive yourself!" Aedan looked at Alistair hopefully as the Templar slightly loosened his grip on his sword. "This is not you, Alistair," he repeated firmly. "You like Sten, remember? His ways are just different to ours. You won, Alistair."

"But what he said about Duncan…!" Alistair exclaimed hotly.

"They're just words, Alistair," Aedan replied. "You and I know the truth about Duncan. That's all that matters. You beat him, Alistair. He's learned his lesson."

Alistair looked over toward Sten, who was starting to stir, then glared at Aedan. "I'll be in my tent," he said tersely. "I need to calm down."

"Well done, Alistair," Aedan called after him as he stormed away.

Alistair threw back his tent flap and sat with a thud on his bedroll, causing him to wince and curse. He ached all over. He was half tempted to go and ask Wynne to heal him, but he was still too angry to risk seeing Sten again. He pulled his boots off and sank back, covering his face with his hands, exhaling through his fingers.

"Kadan…" a quiet voice spoke from outside the tent. Alistair shot up into a sitting position.

"…I have come to do you a service."

"What?" Alistair said impatiently. "What service?"

"You have bested me in combat," Sten replied. "I must do you a service of your choosing. You have only to name it, Kadan."

Still angry, Alistair scrambled forward and poked his head out of the tent flap. "No, thank you," he said petulantly. "I don't want anything from you."

"You do not understand, Kadan," Sten said solemnly. "I must perform a service for you. It is the way of my people."

"After what you said about Duncan?" Alistair cried, his cheeks burning with indignation. "You can kiss my arse!"

"As you wish, Kadan," Sten replied stoically, pushing his way into the tent. "Remove your trousers."

Alistair sank back onto his bottom, his face resembling a fish at feeding time. "I-I…I didn't mean it literally!" he shrieked.

"Then you do not wish me to kiss your posterior?" Sten asked, confused.

"Of course not!" Alistair gasped. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Sten sighed and frowned heavily. "I do not understand the ways of your people," he said quietly. "You say things you do not mean. I am at a loss."

Alistair watched Sten carefully, feeling his anger drain away as he felt a pang of sympathy for the Qunari. "Well, 'kiss my arse' was meant as an insult," he explained.

"Oh, I see," Sten replied. "That is understandable. But the matter still remains of my obligation to you."

Alistair puffed his cheeks out. "I really don't know," he sighed. "The only thing I need right now is something for my aching muscles."

Sten frowned and thought for a moment. "Then perhaps I could give you a Beresaad massage," he offered.

"Erm…a Beresaad massage?" Alistair asked hesitantly, as images of being pummelled to dust punctured his thoughts. "What exactly does that involve?"

"It is a service that my brothers and I performed for one another frequently when we fought together," Sten explained. "It relieves tension and promotes feelings of well-being."

"Oh," Alistair muttered, feeling a little more relaxed. "That doesn't sound too lethal."

"Then shall I proceed, Kadan?" Sten asked.

"Yes," Alistair replied. "Where do you want me?"

"On your back," Sten instructed as Alistair lay back. "Remove your trousers," he added.

Alistair pushed himself up onto his elbows. "What?" he cried. "Is that really necessary?"

"It is essential," Sten replied. "I cannot massage you through your trousers."

"Erm, alright…" Alistair gulped. "Should I remove my shirt as well?"

"If you wish, Kadan," Sten nodded, waiting patiently as Alistair disrobed, leaving his smallclothes on.

"You should also remove your pants," Sten instructed.

"My-my pants? _Really_?" Alistair exclaimed, a note of panic in his voice, "w-what for?"

"You may retain them for now, if you wish," Sten replied, sitting atop Alistair's thighs and shaking his head at the strange ways of the Fereldan people. "You will feel the full benefit of the massage if you relax, Kadan."

"All right, I'll try," Alistair muttered, lying on his back and taking a deep breath.

Sten leaned forward slightly and placed his huge hands onto Alistair's shoulders. "Relax, Kadan," he advised, as he began kneading the Templar's painfully tense muscles.

Alistair took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes as Sten's hands did their work, moving down to his biceps. Sten transferred some of his weight to his hands and Alistair groaned a little as he felt the pain and tiredness lift.

Sten's hands moved onto to Alistair's chest, and this time the Qunari put the full weight of his upper body into his strokes. His fingers sought Alistair's nipples, and pressed hard against them, causing Alistair to gulp. He doesn't know our ways, he thought to himself, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. Should I explain to him?

"Ah, good," Sten said quietly. "You are becoming tumescent."

"Tu- _what_?" Alistair gasped.

"Soon you will be fully erect," Sten said proudly.

"What!" Alistair spluttered. "Just what kind of massage is this?"

"I thought we had discussed this," Sten replied. "It is a Beresaad massage."

"But…" Alistair started weakly, his words trailing off into nothing as Sten once again applied pressure to his nipples, and shifted himself slightly so he now sat directly on top of Alistair's swollen member.

Sten sat back on his heels, shifting all of his weight onto his legs and pelvis. Alistair felt pressure against his manhood and closed his eyes as a jolt of desire convulsed his lower body.

"Take my arms," Sten said, holding his own arms out. Alistair grasped the Qunari's elbows and Sten did the same, as he began to rock back and forth.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair exclaimed.

"Is this pleasing to you, Kadan?" Sten asked expectantly.

"Erm, yes," Alistair croaked. _I can't offend him, can I?_ Alistair wondered to himself. _It would be an insult to his people…_

"Good," Sten replied. "You are ready."

 _Ready? For what?_ Alistair wondered.

Sten lifted one leg over Alistair and moved to a kneeling position in between the Templar's legs. "I am honoured to do this service for you, Kadan," he said solemnly as he pulled down Alistair's smallclothes.

 _What's he doing? He's pulling down my pants. He's actually pulling down my pants._

Sten took Alistair's length in his hand firmly.

 _Oh, Maker! I should stop him! This isn't right! He doesn't know our ways…_

Sten began to grasp and squeeze Alistair's shaft. His touch was surprisingly light.

 _But I really mustn't offend his people! Oh, shut up and stop thinking! Oh…ooh…_

Sten leaned over and wet his lips with his tongue as he took Alistair into his mouth. Alistair's eyes flew open for a second as a strangled cry escaped his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut as Sten's tongue caressed him, moving in lazy circles around his head. Without warning, the Qunari tightly clamped his mouth around Alistair's cock and sucked vigorously, his hand gripping and pulling on his shaft. His other hand forced Alistair's legs far apart and moved to his balls, teasing and stroking with unexpected gentleness.

Alistair's hands went up to his face and his eyes flew open again as Sten increased the pace of his strokes, causing Alistair to grunt in between gasping breaths. Sten began to move his head back and forth, in time with his hand. Alistair could feel Sten licking him softly and his body tensed as powerful heat slowly moved up his legs and into his hips. Alistair threw his head back and cried out in pleasure as he desperately sought purchase on the bed with his legs. Within moments, he had completely lost control of his own body as Sten took over.

"Sten! I think I'm going to…" he warned, unable to utter the last words, as he exploded into Sten's mouth. He lay there for a few moments, gasping and utterly spent. Sten withdrew, pulled Alistair's smallclothes back up, and respectfully folded the Warden's clothing, placing the pile next to him.

"I shall bid you goodnight, Kadan," he said somberly, exiting the tent.

 _Did that really just happen?_ Alistair thought to himself. Realising it had indeed happened, he laughed softly to himself. His muscles now completely relaxed, Alistair lay back in his bed and started thinking of another way he could get Sten to pick a fight with him.


End file.
